


Still Lingers

by ToxicPineapple



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apathy, Buddies bein' pals, Conversations, Depression, Depression discussed AT LENGTH, Depressive Episode, Episode discussed AT LENGTH, Gen, Hair Washing, I have plenty of romantic ficlets, Implied/Referenced Depression, Implied/Referenced Self Harm, Platonic Nudity, Platonic Relationship, can't stress that enough, friendships, it's not even mentioned or alluded to, non-romantic, non-sexual nudity, platonic, self harm mentions, sorry logang, supportive friends, there's no romance to be found in this fic, this ain't one, vent-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 05:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19100458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: He needs to haul ass. There’s no way that he can just sit here in a lump on the floor with a dead phone across the room from him and a pile of smelly clothes as his pillow. It’s pathetic, albeit painfully familiar, and he can’t allow himself to stoop down to that level again. Shuichi knows it’s unhealthy, his therapist has given him methods of motivating himself to get out the door and combat his anxiety. He knows the methods, he’s got them memorised, he could use them right now if he wanted to....but, he doesn’t.---Shuichi has an episode and misses class one day. Maki pays him a visit.





	Still Lingers

**Author's Note:**

> TW: HEYYY this talks about DEPRESSION and details a DEPRESSIVE EPISODE. not only that, but it discusses, in a few PARAGRAPHS, SELF HARM. no actual self harm takes places in this story, and there is no suicide discussed or even referenced, but it's a whole-ass thing and you really shouldn't read stories that will trigger you!!! I mean it!!!!!! take care of yourself!!!!!!!!!!!

It takes Shuichi a moment to realise that today one of the bad days.

 

He crawls out of bed as usual, too groggy to realise that his alarm isn’t going off. (That would ordinarily be the first indicator that something’s gone badly, but he isn’t in the position to be wary of it.) Rubbing his eyes and attempting to smooth down flyaway pieces of hair, Shuichi realises that he hasn’t showered in almost a week, and his black hair has begun to get greasy and matted, like it always does when he neglects to take proper care of it. This isn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence for him, but it’s tedious, because it means he should probably wash it before he goes to face his classmates. He glances at the clock on the nightstand, wondering if he has time to spare showering.

 

The clock is unplugged. This shouldn’t come off as a surprise to him, because if he thinks back on it, he can vaguely recall tugging the chord out of the wall last night in a fatigue-induced mania, but the fact that it’s off doesn’t mean good things for him. It also doesn’t explain why his alarm isn’t currently filling his room, because his alarm is on his cell phone.

 

Shuichi glances at the device itself, picks it up off the desk, and taps lightly on the power button. He forgot to plug it in last night, but it’s still at four percent, which means he has enough battery power to check the time. To his surprise, however, it’s 10:47- four and a half hours after his alarm is supposed to have went off. He tosses the phone to the side, jumping to his feet and shuffling over to where he threw his school uniform last night in getting undressed.

 

But as he bends down to pick up the slightly wrinkled (and also foul smelling) articles of clothing, he hesitates, fingers brushing against his jacket. As much as he knows he _should_ hurry to class, the image of his sensei’s face in his mind is giving him pause. Obviously, that’s not going to stop him, but still… thinking about it makes his stomach twist. He hasn’t slept in past his alarm since coming to Hope’s Peak; honestly, he’d been doing really well, so he’s a little surprised that this happened to begin with. It’s not a big deal. All it means is that he’ll have to wear his hat today, and maybe dodge conversations with people so as not to alert them to anything being wrong.

 

The idea of doing as much, though, is blatantly unappealing. Shuichi hisses out a sigh and sinks down into the carpet, sitting down next to the beige uniform and resting his head on his knees. He needs to get to class. He’s already late, but lunch isn’t for another hour and a half, so if he hurries, he won’t miss too much of the school day. His teachers won’t mind, because they don’t seem to mind skipping here (though it’ll be mortifying to Shuichi because he’s not the type of person to skip) and if his friends ask he’ll just answer honestly, that he slept in past his alarm.

 

Still, though. _Still._ Getting to his feet right now feels like a chore. Leaving this room seems an impossible feat. One that he doesn’t have the courage nor the desire to attempt to undertake at this very moment. It doesn’t seem worth it, now that he’s already missed a solid three hours of class. Why bother trying to join everyone when he’s slept in so much? What’s one day of class in a school where the curriculum is unimportant?

 

He attempts to shove away the nihilistic thoughts, because he knows how his brain works. If he gives in to the desire to stay in his room all day, leaving it again tomorrow will only be twice as difficult. He’s never been very good at breaking bad habits once he’s fallen back into them. It usually takes his uncle’s encouragement to even get him out of bed, and at this moment, he doesn’t have that.

 

So Shuichi should go to class. He knows, that, logically, but even as the thought enters his mind, he…

 

His reasoning skills, which are admittedly below par at this very moment in time, are telling him that he should get up and go. Ignore the anxiety and the embarrassment. This is his first offense, nobody will blame him. (But, a low voice in the back of his head argues, the first offense is always the worst one. The one where they’re the most disappointed and confused. The ones after that one only go further and further down hill. Better not to face them at all.) He has school work to get done, and friends who are counting on him to show. (The school work doesn’t matter here, and even if it did, he still probably wouldn’t go. It’s never been enough to motivate him in the past. Why now? And his friends can’t really care that much, can they? His presence is pretty unsubstantial, all things considered.)

 

No, he needs to haul ass. There’s no way that he can just sit here in a lump on the floor with a dead phone across the room from him and a pile of smelly clothes as his pillow. It’s pathetic, albeit painfully familiar, and he can’t allow himself to stoop down to that level again. Shuichi knows it’s unhealthy, his therapist has given him methods of motivating himself to get out the door and combat his anxiety. He knows the methods, he’s got them memorised, he could use them _right now_ if he wanted to.

 

...but, he doesn’t. Shuichi doesn’t move from his place, except to slowly shift his position until he is eventually lying down on his side, staring across his room at the closet. Inside, he’s got a few clean Hope’s Peak Academy uniforms hung up, plus some of his own clothing, and on the top shelf, a few of his hats. What he should do is pull himself up, have a quick, hot shower, and then take one of those clean changes of clothing. If he’s not going to go to class, he should at least get cleaned up so that he can feel more comfortable in his own skin. Maybe he can reread one of his favourite novels, watch a video on YouTube. Something to distract himself with.

 

Instead, he finds himself staring at his wrist, eyes half lidded with drowsiness. He isn’t really tired, but lying in the same place in the manner that he is has begun to fill him with lethargy. All of his movements are miniscule, but the large ones that he attempts are sluggish, and heavy, and he is half tempted to cease all of them for the sake of making this easier on himself.

 

There are a couple scars at the place where his sleeve barely covers his wrist, right there next to the palm on his hand. Ordinarly, when Shuichi is feeling _that_ way, he’d opt for somewhere easier to conceal, like a spot further up his arm, or, more often, somewhere on his legs, but he’s rarely in the state of mind to think of those things, when he wants to… well, it doesn’t matter, because he’s not going to be cutting himself right now. He’s fairly certain of that, because it sounds like a mess (taking care of his self harm scars is always so troublesome) and it would take energy that he doesn’t have to get up and get a razor.

  
Still, he has to consciously stop himself from picking at the scabs still present on those scars. He knows that doing as much only ever leads to bad things. Instead, he clenches both of his hands into fists, watches the knuckles of his right hand turn white as he cuts off the circulation. He doesn’t exactly relish the pain that spreads through his palms when he digs his fingernails into the skin, but it’s a _feeling,_ it’s something, so he doesn’t stop nearly as soon as he should. When he does, and looks at his palms again, he can see the four angry red marks that his fingernails have left behind. Normally his nails are bitten down to the quick, because he thinks too much and generally loses sight of himself in the process, but they’ve grown out a bit attending Hope’s Peak.

 

He wonders idly how long that is going to last.

  
As much as Shuichi often wishes for emptiness when he’s feeling crushed by sadness, or loneliness, he’d probably take either one of those emotions over the blank indifference that has suddenly settled over his shoulders in lying here. It’s not that he likes being sad, because that couldn’t be further from the truth, but he likes caring about things, and right now, he doesn’t really care about anything. Distantly, he’s aware that there are things he _needs_ to do, and people he _needs_ to talk to, but he can’t muster the energy to care about it, or remember why any of it is important.

 

It’s… frustrating, but not enough for him to care about it. At some point, Shuichi closes his eyes, wondering if it would be a more productive use of his time to sleep, but after spending an indeterminate amount of time closing and opening his eyes in an attempt to drift away, he resigns himself to the fact that he just has too much energy (perhaps that’s the wrong word for it) to sleep right now. So all he can do, and all he is willing to do, is lie there, blinking occasionally, and making patterns on the wall with his eyes. Every once in a while, a thought enters his head, and he realises that he’s entirely capable of getting up, but then he just… he doesn’t, he doesn’t get up. He just lies there.

 

Eventually, despite his earlier assertion, Shuichi does fall asleep, though it’s less a restful consciousness and more of a half awake, half asleep state that blurs everything together and leaves him startled when his doorbell rings.

  
As he blinks back into awareness, he glances briefly at his surroundings, even though everything is the same as it was before. (There’s no reason why it shouldn’t be; he hasn’t _done_ anything.) But there’s a high possibility that somebody is at his door. Sitting up, Shuichi rubs his eyes, and wonders vaguely if somebody really rang his bell, or if it was just a figment of his imagination. A moment later, he receives his answer, in the form of another ring. Ordinarily he’d be able to figure out which of his classmates is standing at the door by the length of the chimes and how long it takes the person behind the door to ring a second time, but right now, he’s too disoriented to think about anything except for how much his neck hurts.

 

Pushing himself to his feet and shuffling over to the door, Shuichi feels a flutter of anxiety in his chest, and apathetically wonders if this means his episode has ended. If he’s so flippant about it, even in his own head, it can’t be entirely over yet, but the little bit of feeling tells him that it will probably end soon. He is relieved, perhaps, to be aware of it, but the idea of all of those ugly emotions returning to the forefront of his mind isn’t a pleasant one, and he feels himself grimace as he unlocks his door and pulls it open.

 

Shuichi comes face to face with Maki Harukawa and almost stumbles. Her red eyes are narrowed, though they soften almost imperceptibly when she lays eyes on him, and she appears to have been about to ring the doorbell for a third time, based on the way her right hand is poised and the irritation wrinkling her nose. Ordinarily, he’d smile and laugh a little bit at her expense, teasing her about how easily she gets irritated at the smallest of things, but now he just blinks tiredly, attempting to remember how to socialise.

 

“Why didn’t you answer the door earlier?” Maki asks, crossly, but her tone is soft enough that Shuichi can almost see through her mock irritation. The worry takes priority, he knows, because he’s seen her in moments where she’s had to choose between anger and care, and she’s always chosen care. Still, because it’s Maki, there’s little chance of her letting down the act. At least for the moment.

 

“Ah, did you…” Shuichi clears his throat, as his voice is thick with disuse. “Did you come to my door before…?” He rubs the back of his neck, drags his grey eyes away from hers so that she can’t see the shame that is starting to return to his mind. His episode is ending, that’s for sure, but it’s not giving him back any of the good feelings, it seems.

 

“Yeah. Kaito and I did. He rung the doorbell like ten times and you didn’t answer.” Vaguely, Shuichi recalls hearing _something_ when he was drifting in and out of consciousness, but he couldn’t say definitively whether or not it was a doorbell. Nonetheless, he bites his lip, still not meeting Maki’s gaze.

 

“S-Sorry.” He mutters, messing with the bottom of his shirt. He looks pathetic, he knows. His hair is greasy and matted, and he’s barely wearing pajamas; unless anybody counts an old, torn band t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that are so big he’s had to pull a new piece of string through in place of a drawstring to keep it on. It’s not that he doesn’t have better clothing, it’s just that last night, when he was changing, he wasn’t in the mood to go looking, and this is what he settled upon. He probably also has pretty terrible BO, right now. If Maki notices, or thinks so, she doesn’t say anything. “I was just…”

 

Maki rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I don’t care.” She brushes past Shuichi, into his room, and he blinks hard, watching as she heads straight towards his closet. “Close the door and come over here.”

 

He complies without question, but as he walks over to Maki (and subsequently the closet) he has to inquire a little bit. “Uhm… what are you doing?” Shuichi asks quietly, and she throws an irritated look at him over her shoulder before returning to her task, which appears to be sifting through his closet.

 

“You’re gross, so you’re going to take a shower, or a bath or something, and I’ll like, wash your hair, or whatever.” Maki huffs, holding up a green t-shirt with an expression of extreme distaste playing on her features. “Why do you have this? I’ve never seen you wear something this brightly coloured in the whole time I’ve… ugh, nevermind.”

 

“Wash my hair?” Shuichi repeats, and Maki glares at him again, like he’s being slow, but her eyes soften when she looks at him for a moment longer, and eventually she stops rifling through his closet to respond.

 

“It was something I did once or twice for kids at the orphanage,” she explains, still sounding annoyed but gentler, this time. “It’s not like, an excuse to see you naked, or whatever. I don’t care.” Maki doesn’t even blush as she says it, but Shuichi supposes that as the Ultimate Child-Caregiver, she probably _would_ have seen a lot of kids naked. That doesn’t make this any less weird, but he doesn’t mind it so much, he supposes, if it’s Maki. He’s not interested in her, first of all, and he knows for a fact that she’s not interest in him, so that makes things easier. But, also, the way that she’s acting about this… it makes it feel less uncomfortable. “You can say no, though, if you just want to do it yourself.”

 

“No,” Shuichi blurts, then curses himself for saying it so suddenly. (Thankfully, Maki doesn’t respond much beyond a simple eyebrow raise.) “I-I mean, I don’t… I wouldn’t mind. I…” he’s fully capable of washing his hair by himself, and he was planning to do it eventually, but he has to be honest that the idea of having his friend do it for him is appealing. It’s been a while since someone else has washed his hair.

 

Without another word, Maki nods and returns to looking through his closet, eventually pulling out another pair of sweatpants, though these ones are a lot smaller than the ones Shuichi is currently wearing, and one of his dark blue sweaters. Actually, that’s one of his favourites, but he’s not sure why Maki would know that. She probably doesn’t. In retrospect, it’s a pretty good clothing combination for the place he’s in right now. He isn’t sure why he didn’t think of it himself. Probably because he hasn’t been making an effort to.

 

She presses the clothing into his arms and turns around, starting towards the bathroom. “Ah- h-hey, should I…?”

 

“I assume you need more than just a shirt and pants.” Maki doesn’t even look back at him. “Get your underwear and come in. Is a bath fine? I’m going to warm the water and fill the tub.”

 

Oh, Shuichi hasn’t taken a bath since his first year of middle school, but… it sounds nice, so he nods, then, realising she can’t see him, speaks up. “Yeah, that’s- that’s fine.” He inhales, holding the clothes a little bit away from his body so that they don’t start to smell bad. Maki nods and disappears into the bathroom, so with nothing else to do, he shuffles over to his underwear drawer and chooses a clean pair of boxers. He doesn’t really need anything else, because all of his soaps and towels are already in the bathroom, so he just shuffles in the direction of his bathroom and slips inside.

 

It doesn’t make a difference, but Shuichi closes the door behind himself as he steps inside. He doesn’t lock it, though, because that would be a little bit uncomfortable, even with Maki. Gently, he puts his clothing on the bathroom counter and looks over at the girl in question. She is kneeling by the bathtub, letting water flow through her fingers into the white porcelain tub. When she deems it hot enough, she pulls the drain stopper and lets it fill. Her attention doesn’t leave the level of thee water, but when she speaks, she is addressing Shuichi.

 

“It’s around six in the evening. You haven’t missed dinner yet but if you don’t want to go and see everyone, I can just get you some food.” Maki explains without being prompted, and Shuichi feels a rush of gratitude, because he _was_ feeling nervous about facing everybody during dinner. He’s too hungry to skip the meal altogether. (Huh, it’s odd, he hadn’t realised he was hungry.) “I can leave you alone, or I can eat in your room with you. Whatever. But if you want me to eat with you, you’ll have to let me bring Kaito, because you know how he gets about these things.”

 

Laughing slightly, Shuichi nods. “I do, yes, I… I should just join everybody in the dining hall, honestly. Avoidance isn’t ever a good way to deal with these… ah… episodes.” He winces over the word but Maki doesn’t address it.

 

“Do you want to eat with everyone? You shouldn’t force yourself.” She points out, and Shuichi hums his agreement, but still shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“I don’t know that I want to, but I know that I’ll regret it if I decide to stay inside.” He smiles ruefully, brushes a few pieces of hair out of his face. “If I change my mind, though, I’ll appreciate yours and Kaito’s company.” Shuichi adds, sincerely, and Maki’s lips quirk in a small smile.

 

“Fine.” She clears her throat. “I’m going to look away. The bath is almost full so you can get undressed now, if you want. Or go in fully clothed. Up to you.”

 

As much as bathing with his clothes on is appealing, Shuichi opts to slowly peel off his shirt, then his pants, and finally his boxers. The steam coming off the bathtub makes him shiver, even though it’s warm, and he releases a small sigh, rubbing his arm with one hand. He’s never really been naked in the same room as a girl before- or a guy, for that matter- but he doesn’t feel like it’s such a big deal with Maki. Well, it’s a big deal, but maybe not for that reason. He’s slightly uncomfortable, because there are all sorts of parts of his body that he’s ashamed of (the self harm scars, to name a few) but ultimately, it’s not enough to make him want to stop and put his clothes on.

 

“The bath is ready.” Maki moves to the side to allow Shuichi to enter, so he moves forward on shaky legs and steps into the water. It’s warmer than he was expecting, and he lets out a hissing breath as he steps in with his other leg, shuffling around a bit in the tub before finally sinking to sit down with his legs against his chest. It’s more shallow than he’d usually make a bath, but he’s sure that Maki had a reason for it. Already the warm water is working for his sore joints, making him relax and easing the tension built from lying in one place all day. He closes his eyes, puts a hand on his forehead, and forces himself to breathe silently, because it would probably be weird for Maki if he made any noises. “Hey. Um. You should wet your hair, so I can wash it.”

 

Glancing back at her, Shuichi nods wordlessly, straightening out his legs and cupping water in between his hands. He dumps it on his head, but it barely does anything, so he eventually just pinches his nose and dunks his head under in the bath. When he reemerges, he can hear Maki laughing quietly behind him, and he can’t help but crack a smile of his own, looking back at her. He expects it to be weird, making eye contact with her, but she’s smiling genuinely, and it’s such a sisterly expression that there is genuinely nothing odd about it for him. She schools her expression into something more Maki-like and clears her throat, walking over to sit lightly on the edge of the toilet. (It’s covered. It’s _fine._ )

 

“Turn around, I can’t reach your hair like that,” she instructs firmly, pushing up her sleeves and inching closer to the bathtub. Shuichi does as she says, shuffling around so he’s leaning against the edge of the bathtub with the back of his head exposed to her. His hair, now wet, is deflated, but he’s pretty sure his cowlick is still sticking up, even now, which is kind of annoying. It doesn’t matter, he supposes. Behind him, he hears Maki squeezing shampoo onto her hand, and he wonders what type she chose, because there are several in here. Only one of them which he uses consistently- it’s the most scentless of the bunch, because he’s not really a fan of those strong-smelling shampoos the other guys in his class use.

 

There is some shuffling, and then finally Maki’s fingers slide into his hair, gently starting to work out the knots and massage the shampoo into his scalp. It’s such a surprisingly good feeling, Shuichi closes his eyes and makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat. If she hears it, or is uncomfortable, though, Maki again chooses to hold her tongue. He knows his hair is beyond matted, which means she’s got her work cut out for her as far as untangling it goes, but she works slowly and carefully, combing her fingers through the individual pieces of hair and rubbing them down with shampoo until they release. Her fingernails are short, likely due to her biting them, just as Shuichi does.

 

It’s an odd thing, to relate to somebody because they also bite their nails, but it’s something that brings him a large amount of comfort right now, so he’s not really complaining. Maki pauses to get some more shampoo before moving closer to his neck, working more gently there as though she knows that his hair is more sensitive at that part of his head. She never acts as though she knows what to say or do with people, but it seems like every time they have a quiet moment like this, she knows exactly what to do, and how to do it well. Her movements are well-practiced, and Shuichi is having a difficult time believing she only did it a couple times, like she said before.

 

Regardless, though, the feeling of her hands massaging his scalp is so utterly relaxing, he feels like his heart is being overwhelmed. The bathroom is silent, aside from the sound of her working on his hair, and occasionally the sound of bathwater being splashed around whenever he moves. When Maki has finished massaging in the shampoo, she takes down the showerhead and turns it on, using it to rinse out the shampoo from Shuichi’s hair. This, he supposes, is why she made the bath more shallow than it should be; so that she could put in the extra water without worrying about any flooding. He’s impressed at her insight.

 

Once she’s finished washing out the shampoo, Maki moves to do it a second time, and by the time that’s about halfway completed, Shuichi is starting to feel some of the weight lifting from his chest. The idea of facing everybody else in the dining hall has begun to feel less daunting. They’re going to ask questions, probably, but maybe they won’t. And even if they do, he’ll probably be able to answer them just fine. Worst case scenario… Maki will probably step in. Which begs the question…

 

“How did you know?” Shuichi asks quietly, looking up into Maki’s eyes as she scrubs his head. Her expression is focused, but she raises an eyebrow at his question.

 

“Know what?” She asks, with little inflection in her tone. He thinks maybe she has a suspicion as to what he means, but she’s not presumptuous enough to respond without some specification. Shuichi can appreciate it.

 

“That I needed this today? That I was…” _having an episode,_ he wants to say, but instead he says, “...not feeling my best?”

 

Maki seems to ponder his question as she turns on the showerhead again, gently placing it above his hair and starting to wash out the shampoo for the second time. “I didn’t, at first. But I also didn’t think you were sick, because if you were sick, you would’ve come to class anyway, or at least told Kaede, or something. You aren’t the kind of guy to just not show up, unless it’s something like this.” Her hand briefly rests on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “I’ve been in the same place.”

 

“Really?” Shuichi can’t help sounding surprised. It would probably be the last thing he’d want to hear, telling somebody else about his depression, but the word has already left his mouth. Maki shows no signs of offense, but he continues anyway. “I-I’m sorry, that came out… well, I suppose I’m just… surprised? You never…”

 

“I don’t run around announcing it.” Maki shrugs. “Besides, I had no idea about you, either.” She adds, and Shuichi is taken aback by that declaration as well, because as far as he’s been concerned, his condition has been obvious to everyone at this school. Surely, there’s not a person in his class who hasn’t seen his cut scars. Still, hearing from Maki that she wasn’t aware of him, either, makes him feel better for not noticing it with her. He wishes he could be more perceptive of it, of course, but there’s not always a good way to tell. Besides, if you guess, and you’re wrong? That’s pretty terrible all on its own.

 

He hums, but doesn’t speak again until Maki is putting the showerhead back up. “Thank you, Maki, I…”

 

“Sure.” Maki responds with a sigh, getting to her feet and drying her hands on her skirt, even though there are towels hanging right there. “I’ll go on ahead so that you can finish your bath, or whatever you want to do, but I’ll see you in the dining hall. If you’re not there in an hour, or something, I’ll bring dinner here for you.” She tacks on the second part as though she’s exasperated, but Shuichi can feel the kindness in her tone. She only does this because she cares.

 

Ah… he’s thankful to have a friend like her who he can count on. “Okay.” Shuichi runs a hand through his hair, which feels much better now, after she’s washed it. “Th… Thank you, again.” He murmurs, and she smiles back at him, another one of those rare but genuine smiles that she gives once in a while.

 

“Of course.” Maki tells him, and then slips out the bathroom door without another word. He hears the door to his room click shut a moment later, and knows that she’s left. But her presence still lingers.

**Author's Note:**

> I said in the tags that this is kind of vent-ish and it's true (I had a bit of a relapse recently kekeke) but I'm okay honestly I was actually in a pretty alright place writing this!!! I just don't talk a lot about,,, my episodes, especially in writing, and I Like Projecting Onto Shuichi so that's how this fic happened
> 
> also platonic relationships,,,,,,,, I'm literally weak for Shuichi and Maki as friendships and I KNOW this piece is so derivative with the washing hair thing but clenches fIST MY KIDS BDHBHDBHDBS honestly I love. I love. okay. okay.
> 
> yeah they're just friendly friends I dunno fbdshbd okay OKAy I need to STOP
> 
> comments feed my thirst but I'll be satisfied with your enjoyment instead kekeke


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